Leaving the Past Behind
by CorieHall
Summary: Mark has a dark past that Roger doesn't know about. When an event triggers the memories, he begins to have nightmares. They threaten to destroy him and Roger must help him through it. Mark depression story, but not slash. Post-RENT
1. Get A Room

Title: Leaving the Past Behind

Summary: Mark has a dark past that Roger doesn't know about. When an event triggers the memories, he begins to have nightmares. They threaten to destroy him and Roger must help him through it. Mark depression story, but not slash. Post-RENT

Category: Angst & Hurt/Comfort

Rating: T for Adult themes, language

Disclaimer: I don't own RENT, God bless Jonathan Larson - Thank you for creating one of the most amazing pieces of art I have ever seen.

* * *

**Chapter 1: Get a Room**

Mark Cohen woke up on a chilly February Saturday and clutched the blankets closer to gain warmth. When he realized he couldn't sleep any longer, he decided to get up. After all, it was almost ten-o-clock in the morning.

It had been nearly two months since Mimi's brush with death. She and Roger still lived in separate apartments, but because of it, they spent nearly every waking minute together and even took turns sleeping over. It seemed like everyone was appreciating life just a little bit more after that night. Collins was away doing a new teaching job and was loving it and even Maureen and Joanne got along better.

The only thing Mark really didn't appreciate was the fact that he had to ask Alexi for his job back at Buzzline. They had no choice. They needed money for food, rent, and most importantly, Roger's AZT. Mark decided it was well worth it though, Roger was like a brother to him. He wanted to make sure he had everything he needed.

Mark sat up and eventually rolled out of bed. He shivered the second his feet hit the floor. Coming out of his bedroom, he saw Roger sipping coffee in the kitchen. "Morning."

"Morning."

"Going out with Mimi again today, I take it?"

"Yeah, probably. What about you? Got any plans?"

"I was thinking about doing a little filming around the city.

Roger raised his eyebrows. "Oh really? Mark Cohen's next great documentary?"

Mark laughed. "Yeah, something like that." He truly wasn't sure what he wanted to do, but it sounded constructive enough.

Mark joined Roger in eating a bowl of cereal before he left. A little later, there was a knock and Mimi walked in.

"Hey Meems," Roger said delightfully, before giving her a passionate, long kiss on the lips.

Mark squashed his face as he watched his best friend continue his mini make-out session. "Hey guys, get a room," he said, smiling.

"Sorry, Marky," Mimi replied playfully.

Soon the two love birds left and Mark had the loft to himself. He was in a pleasant mood and was ready to get out and get working on his next big project.

Mark left the loft around noon and ventured into the city. He filmed everything he could film. Children in the park, businessmen walking swiftly through the city, and crazy taxi drivers. Anything he could think of as being significant. Then he stopped at a local diner for a quick lunch with the last bit of cash left over from his check and continued on with his filming.

The hours seemed to pass quickly and soon it became dark. Mark decided it was probably a good time to be heading home.

As he got closer to their loft, it was obvious the difference between the business part of New York City and alphabet city. Mark got closer and closer to Avenue A, but couldn't help but notice someone following him. He could feel it. Afraid to look behind him, he picked up the pace a little and tried to get home as quickly as possible.

Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Where do you think you're going in such a hurry?" the voice asked. It was male, and very deep. Mark shivered beneath him. Of all the saps in New York City they could have attacked, why him? Why not some rich asshole with hundreds in his pocket? Why did they choose the poor guy with a worn jacket and pants with holes in them?

"N-n-nowhere."

"Nowhere huh? Then maybe you wouldn't mind if we talked to ya for a second." The man turned Mark around and he saw that he was facing three rather large men.

The next few seconds seemed like a complete blur. He didn't know which one threw the first punch, but before he knew it he was being attacked. Punch after punch was thrown. His glasses clattered to the ground at almost the same moment as his satchel. He watched as one of the men grabbed it and began digging his way through Mark's possessions. He wasn't sure what the man expected to find, after all, he had just spent what little he had left.

"I don't have anything. I'm broke," he pleaded hoping they would leave him alone.

"He's right, Ben. This asshole is completely broke. Nothing but a bunch of junk in here," the man digging through his bag said.

The man referred to as 'Ben' gave Mark one last hard kick in the head and took off running with the other two. After that, Mark blacked out.

* * *

AN: Okay guys, this is my first RENT fic. Any and all feedback would be greatly appreciated. I am always growing as a writer so constructive cricism will be taken as seriously as any other reviews I get. Thank you in 's also about 1:30 in the morning so any really dumb mistakes I made, I apologize. Thanks again!


	2. Nightmares and Dreamscapes

Title: Leaving the Past Behind

Summary: Mark has a dark past that Roger doesn't know about. When an event triggers the memories, he begins to have nightmares. They threaten to destroy him and Roger must help him through it. Mark depression story, but not slash. Post-RENT

Category: Angst & Hurt/Comfort

Rating: T for Adult themes, language

Disclaimer: I don't own RENT, God bless Jonathan Larson - Thank you for creating one of the most amazing pieces of art I have ever seen.

* * *

**Chapter 2: Nightmares and Dreamscapes**

Pain. That was all he could think of. Mark slowly regained consciousness and opened his eyes. He wasn't sure how long he had been there, but he was definitely cold. The winter chill had seeped through his clothes and poked and prodded at his skin. He couldn't stop shaking, and he wasn't sure if it was because he was terrified out of his mind, or terribly cold. He couldn't see much other than the glare of the street lamp, but he couldn't make anything else out. Voices. He could hear voices.

"Help," he muttered. His voice was battered and quiet. "Help - - me," he muttered again, slightly louder than the first.

Suddenly he heard footsteps running towards him. "Jesus Christ, Mark, what happened?"

It was Roger. Good old Roger. Thank God. "Attacked - I - - I was attacked." The sound of his own voice scared him a little bit. He gazed up at Roger and Mimi as they leaned over him.

"Come on, lemme help you up," Roger said, taking his hand and pulling him up while Mimi supported his back. Mark winced. His head was aching and he could feel the dried blood stretching with the skin on his forehead. He could tell that bruises had formed on his chest and his stomach wretched with each movement.

"Damn, they really did you in," Mimi replied, saying what they all knew but didn't want to admit. "Maybe we should get you to a hospital."

"No, no, I'm fine. I just want to get home," Mark pleaded. If there was one place he didn't want to be, it was in a hospital. A place dripping with death, sorrow and formaldehyde.

Roger looked less than convinced. "Are you sure? I mean, you look pretty banged up."

"Yeah, I'm sure. Just, please, I want to go home."

Roger and Mimi, helped Mark get back to the loft and lay down in his bed. Roger did his best to clean him up. There were bruises on his face, chest, and back. They all looked particularly painful.

"Are you gonna be okay tonight?" Roger asked, tucking the blankets around him, still trying to get him to stop shaking.

"Yeah, yeah, I just need a good night's sleep. I'm sure I'll be fine in the morning."

Roger took a deep breath. "Alright, if you say so. Mimi and I are staying here tonight so if you need anything, you know where I'll be."

Mark nodded his head and closed his eyes to try and sleep.

Roger and Mimi stayed up quite a bit longer before finally retiring to Roger's bedroom. They fell asleep quickly, but weren't able to stay that way for long. Roger awoke almost an hour later to hear moaning and shouting coming from Mark's bedroom. He jumped up quickly and walked right in to see his best friend tossing and turning.

"No, please don't. I swear I didn't mean to!" Mark continued on.

Roger sat next to him and tried to shake him awake. He could clearly see the beads of sweat rolling down Mark's face.

"Shh, shh, Mark wake up."

Mark nearly freaked when Roger began to shake his shoulder. Finally, Roger got Mark to wake up and looked him in the eye.

"It's just me, Mark, it's Roger. You were having a nightmare."

Mark looked up at him, eyes wide, almost in disbelief. "Oh, God, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up."

"No, it's fine, really. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, of course, I mean, it was just a dream, right? It was nothing." Mark was still slightly shaking from his dream. After all, it wasn't just a dream, it was a memory he thought he had suppressed.

"Are you sure, I mean, you were really freaking out. Was it about what happened earlier? Do you want to talk about it?"

Mark grimaced and immediately shook his head. "No, really, it's fine. It was just a stupid dream. No deeper significance whatsoever." He laughed nervously, hoping his best friend would just drop the subject altogether.

Roger didn't really believe that it didn't mean anything, but he wasn't sure what to say. Mark was always the one to be there for him. Now the roles were reversed and he felt clueless.

"Well, I suppose we should both get back to sleep. I'm really tired," Mark said, trying to brush off the subject.

All Roger could do was nod his head and leave the room. He mentally slapped himself for not pushing it further, but he just couldn't. Mark was always the level-headed one. Who was he to question him?

He walked back into his bedroom to see Mimi sitting up in bed. "What happened? Is he okay?"

"Yeah, he says he's fine. He just had a bad dream."

"Are you sure? I mean, he was practically screaming. It didn't sound good."

"Yeah, he's fine," Roger snapped back.

Mimi looked hurt. "I'm sorry, I'm just worried about him."

'_Yeah, me too_' Roger thought to himself, though he just couldn't bring himself to say it.

* * *

AN: Well, there you have it, the second chapter. I had planned on putting it up a few days earlier, but wouldn't you know it, some nasty storms blew through and knocked out our power. The worst part? My mom had just had surgery and needed this machine to circulate ice cold water around her shoulder to keep the swelling down. Well I called the electric company and told them this and they were just like, 'We don't know when we'll get out there. If something bad happens call 9-1-1.' I was like yeah, thanks a lot. Gotta love my Dad. He went out and bought a generator and was up late into the night running extension cords and mixing the gasoline to make it work.

So that's what's up. Power finally came back yesterday evening and I thought I would celebrate by finishing another chapter. Hope you liked it. Please let me know what you think of this story! I would completely love you for it! Thanks in advance.


	3. Leaving the Past Behind

Title: Leaving the Past Behind

Summary: Mark has a dark past that Roger doesn't know about. When an event triggers the memories, he begins to have nightmares. They threaten to destroy him and Roger must help him through it. Mark depression story, but not slash. Post-RENT

Category: Angst & Hurt/Comfort

Rating: T for Adult themes, language

Disclaimer: I don't own RENT, God bless Jonathan Larson - Thank you for creating one of the most amazing pieces of art I have ever seen.

* * *

**Chapter 3: Leaving the Past Behind**

The next morning, Mark woke up to the smell of coffee in the kitchen. He sat up and a sudden bolt of pain shot through him. In an instant, memories of what happened the night before came flooding back. Every ounce of his body ached.

Biting his lip through the pain, he finally got up and made his way out into the living area.

"Hey, how'd you sleep?" Roger asked immediately when he saw Mark.

"Uh, fine I guess."

"That's good, cause you were really flippin' last night."

Mark was not in the mood to discuss this. "I'm gonna go take a shower. And Roger, take your AZT."

While Mark was in the shower, he scrubbed hard against his skin, attempting to scrub off the awful marks left by his attackers. He vividly remembered his dream from the night before. It wasn't something he had ever discussed with Roger - and something he never planned on discussing with him, but somehow, the attack brought everything back.

While everyone saw Mark as the 'happy, quiet Jewish kid from Scarsdale', they didn't see what was behind closed doors. The truth was, life at home was anything but happy while he was growing up. It was the reason Mark never wanted to talk when his parents called, and why he 'up and left' as soon as he graduated.

Growing up, Mark had a decent childhood. He and his sister Cindy spent lots of time outside playing with the other kids in Scarsdale and then came home to a hot, kosher supper every night cooked by their Mom. It seemed so perfect. A few weeks before Mark turned twelve, things changed. His father suddenly became more demanding of him and he always seemed angry. He never acted this way towards Cindy or his Mom, and Mark just couldn't figure out why.

After all those years of leaving the past behind, he now couldn't get it off his mind. Mark began to sob. He leaned against the shower wall and let every emotion pour out. Unfortunately, like always, Mark wasn't one to face his problems. He was much more content turning the camera towards everyone else's issues before he decided to take on his own.

He quickly regained his composure and stepped out of the shower. Roger didn't know about his past, and he still didn't need to know. And that's the way it would stay for as long as he could make it.

And for the next few hours, things went Mark's way. Roger had stopped asking questions and allowed Mark to do whatever he wanted to do. Roger still wasn't convinced that he was okay. Mark was still anti-social and refused to eat saying he had 'things to get done' and 'didn't have time to eat'. Roger was definitely concerned, but like the night before, he just couldn't bring himself to push the issue.

That night, Mark had another nightmare, more vivid than the first.

_ A year went by since the major change in his father's mood, and Mark had been well conditioned by his father. He followed every rule as close as possible and did things the moment he was asked because he knew what was coming if he didn't. It started out as a few slaps, and then escalated to punches and kicks. Things that left deep purple bruises and bleeding cuts. _

_ Thirteen year old Mark lay on his bed, his hands resting underneath his head, while his eyes threatened to close. He was exhausted. Mark was nearly a slave for his father. Every morning he didn't have school, he woke up to a mile long list of chores he was expected to have completed before his father got home. That day seemed no different than any other day. He did his chores and returned to his room so he wasn't there when his father walked in the door - he never wanted to see Mark anyway._

_ He flinched when the front door opened, as usual. It was never safe to assume he had done everything right, but it had been a few weeks without incident by this point._

_ Suddenly there was a loud banging on his bedroom door._

_ "Boy, get your ass out here this instant!"_

_ Mark felt paralyzed for a second as he scanned his mind to figure out what he could have possibly missed. He got up slowly and opened the door to find his father staring angrily at him. He reached out and gripped the boy's arm harder than he'd ever gripped it before._

_ "Ow, ow, Dad, please stop!" Mark begged as his father dragged him down the hall and down the stairs. It had never seemed like such a long staircase until this very moment. Tears began to leak from his eyes with each step. Suddenly as they reached the landing, Mark felt his arm pop. He cried out in pain and began to shake violently. _

_ "Shut up, I haven't hardly touched you!" his father said as he jerked the young boy up so he was standing on his own. Once they were in the kitchen, Mark silently gasped when he realized what he had done. There it was: a single bowl left in the sink. It was from lunch. Mark had made himself a bowl of soup in between cleaning the living room and the bathrooms and forgot to wash it and put it away after he was finished._

_ "What the fuck do you call this, huh? Does this kitchen look clean to you, Mark?"_

_ "Nn-no," Mark whimpered quietly. _

_ His father slapped him roughly across his face. "What was that? You answer me when I talk to you! Now does this kitchen look clean to you?"_

_ "No," he said simply._

_ "I didn't think so!" He punched Mark hard in the side of the head. The force knocked him to the ground. "How many times do I have to do this before you learn your fucking lesson?" The statement was followed by multiple kicks in the side. Mark coughed and gagged as the wind was knocked out of him._

_ The moment he rolled over, he saw the worst thing possible. It was his mother, staring and crying, but saying nothing. How could she just sit there and watch her husband beat her son like that? _

_ "So what are you gonna do?" his father asked._

_ "Cc-clean it up."_

_ "What was that?" Kick._

_ "Clean it up."_

_ "That's what I thought."_

Mark awoke with a start and glanced around the room quickly for several seconds before realizing he was safe in his own bedroom. He felt like his nerves were jumping out of his skin as he began to sob. He just couldn't handle it anymore. It took him forever to be able to forget what his father did to him and now it was all coming back.

He had no choice. He had to deal with this the only way he knew how. It had been years since he'd sunk that low. But now Roger had Mimi, Maureen had Joanne, Collins was away, and Mark had no one. No one to hold him. No one to tell him everything would be okay. But soon Mark would have something that just for him. A piece of metal that wouldn't ask questions or yell at him. It was truly the perfect companion.

He reached under his bed to pull out a small box that held the few things still left over from his life in Scarsdale. There was a picture of him and Nanette Himmelfarb, and a picture of him and Cindy at the beach when they were just toddlers. As much as Mark hated what his father had done, he was thankful he never laid a hand on her. Then he saw it. It was sitting on the very bottom wrapped in a thin piece of cloth. His hand shook slightly as he pulled it out. It glistened in the light coming in from the street.

He quickly searched the floor to find an old shirt that would be a good makeshift towel and returned to his bed. He held his arm in front of him and dragged the blade across it. He hissed in pain for a moment and then stared intently at his work of art. Small drops of blood began to surface and he quickly wiped them off and continued until both wrists were lined by angry marks and blood drops.

Mark cleaned the cuts as best as he could, and stored away the evidence. When he laid back down, he could feel the mild stinging beneath his shirt sleeves and it comforted him somewhat. It was something he could control. Something that no one could take away from him and that's the way he wanted it.

* * *

AN: Well, here ya go guys. Sorry this one took me a little longer to crank out than I thought it would. Tell me what you think. I'm not writing the flashback scenes from personal experience, thank goodness, but it makes writing them kind of a guessing game for what sounds right. If you could give me your feedback, it would be fantabulous! Thanks for reading!


	4. Learn Your Manners

Title: Leaving the Past Behind

Summary: Mark has a dark past that Roger doesn't know about. When an event triggers the memories, he begins to have nightmares. They threaten to destroy him and Roger must help him through it. Mark depression story, but not slash. Post-RENT

Category: Angst & Hurt/Comfort

Rating: T for Adult themes, language

Disclaimer: I don't own RENT, God bless Jonathan Larson - Thank you for creating one of the most amazing pieces of art I have ever seen.

* * *

**Chapter 4: Learn Your Manners**

When Mark got up that Monday morning, he was disappointed to realize that his way of coping made him feel not much better at all. He got out of bed, threw a decent outfit on, and walked into the main room of the loft to find Roger and Mimi eating breakfast.

"Hey," the rocker said, cautiously, noting Mark's apparent distress.

"Hey," Mark replied meekly as he rushed around the loft gathering his jacket, scarf, and camera.

"Where are you going? We have breakfast. Mimi cooked eggs and they taste ama- ,"

"I need to get down to Buzzline, Alexi wants me there early," the young filmmaker snapped back as he quickly left the loft.

Mark really had no where he had to be, but he couldn't stand being at the loft anymore. He had a whole hour before he had to be anywhere near Buzzline, but decided to head in early anyway.

That evening when he got home, Roger and Mimi were gone. He silently thanked God and went to his room.

Mark sat on his bed and tore off his shirt, letting the cold air pierce every inch of him. He stared down in disgust at the angry bruises that still plagued his body. It reminded him of his teenaged years when he was forced to become his own physician every time his father had a meltdown. He ran his fingers over the discolored skin, wishing it would just magically disappear.

Then he saw his newest works of art. Their texture brought a smile to his face. It was so odd, but so comforting at the same time. Dried lines of blood rested on top that begged to be picked at. He never really figured out what it was about cutting that was so...euphoric. It was a complete release from life and all of it's difficulties. And it was a way to help yourself. You didn't need to rely on anyone else for anything. Really, the perfect answer.

After all, what would he do when everyone was gone? Who knows how long Mimi, or Roger, or Collins had? And God knows he couldn't really rely on Maureen to be there for him. If he allowed himself to become dependent on someone, he would screw himself. And Mark couldn't let that happen.

The filmmaker laid back on his bed and gently closed his eyes. Soon sleep came, though it was nowhere near relaxing.

_Mark, now fifteen, spent nearly every minute he wasn't doing chores or responding to his father's every beck and call at the Scarsdale Jewish Community Center. There he spent his time with Nanette Himmelfarb, a beautiful, Jewish brunette he'd had his eyes on since puberty._

_ He'd seen her at Scarsdale Middle a million times and even took the long way to his afternoon PE class just so he could pass her in the hall for two seconds. He never really got the courage to talk to her, but he wanted to so bad. _

_ By his freshman year of high school, he would have paid someone a hundred dollars just to get her to acknowledge him. The day he heard her say she signed up for a Tango class at the community center, he marched down and signed himself up for it also. After all, it would delay coming home for just a little longer one day a week, and he figured it was about time he did something for himself after the three years he'd spent living for his Dad. _

_ The first day of class started out the most amazing day Mark had had in years. Walking to the community center, hands shaking, he held his head high. He was undoubtedly nervous, but he couldn't wait to begin. He prayed and prayed with all his might that he would get to dance with her, even for just a moment. But then again, even being in the same room with her would make his spirits soar. It was most definitely an infatuation, but he didn't care. He just knew that as soon as they met, it would turn in to true love - he could feel it. _

_ He walked in and saw many other people mingling - some old, some young. He stood by himself for a moment before directing his attention to the older woman at the front clapping her hands. _

_ "Alright, let's get started. Boys make a line on my right, girls on my left." She waited a moment for everyone to line up and quiet down._

_ Mark quickly found a spot between a man who couldn't have been older than twenty-five and a man who was easily in his forties. He glanced down at his feet to be sure he was in line with the others and then looked up to see Nanette's beautiful brown eyes looking back at him. Suddenly, he felt light headed as she gave him a subtle smile. He weakly smiled back and waited for instruction._

_ "The tango originated in Buenos Aires, Argentina in the late eighteen hundreds and quickly spread to Europe and later to North America."_

_ And on the class went. The time nearly flew by for Mark. The very first time he took her hand, his heart fluttered and the tips of his fingers felt electrified. It was better than anything he could have dreamed. Once the class was over, the two stood for a moment, just staring. _

_ "So, you said your name was Mark, right?" Nannette asked._

_ Mark nodded as a dorky smile plagued his face. "Yeah, we're in the same geometry class."_

_ "Right, right. I knew I recognized you. Well, thanks for the good time. Partners next week?"_

_ "Definitely. Yeah, uh, sounds good."_

_ "Well, I'll see you later, Mark," she said smiling and walking towards the door._

_ Mark grinned back at her for a moment, completely taken away by her eyes before he realized she was looking for a reply. "Um, yeah, I'll see you later."_

_ That afternoon, Mark walked with a spring in his step. He couldn't stop smiling. That was until he got home. He walked in the door to see his father sitting in his chair with a beer._

_ 'Great,' he thought, 'he's already got a head start on his drinking._

_ "Where have you been?" he snapped, standing quickly._

_ "I signed up for a Tango class at the community center." Mark decided it was better to just tell the truth and at least try to stand his ground rather than lying about it._

_ "Tango? You better not be turning into a faggot you little bitch!" Mark's father stepped forward and slapped him across the face. "Did you ask me before making such a stupid decision?"_

_ Mark sat for a moment staring at the floor. He could feel the anger rising within him. Finally, he snapped._

_ "No, I didn't ask you and I don't give a shit! I can do whatever I fucking want and I don't need your approval!"_

_ Mark's father looked temporarily stunned as it was the first time he had ever fought back. When he recovered, he took Mark's arm in his hand and threw him to the floor. "Oh, so you think you're going to stand up to me now? Well, I'll teach you to talk back to me."_

_ Mark immediately regretted his decision. His father released his wrath on the small boy. As he layed on the floor crying, his father continued to hit and kick him, not once breaking in between. Finally, he pulled the boy up off the ground and dragged him to the basement door._

_ "What are you doing?" Mark asked through his tears. _

_ "You need to learn your manners," he replied back before opening the door and pushing him onto the stairs. "You can come out when I believe you've learned your lesson."_

_ The door was then quickly shut and locked tightly. Mark spent four hours down there before his mother came and rescued him after his father passed out. She didn't say a word to him, even though he begged her to. He never understood why she wouldn't talk to him. It hurt nearly as much as the physical beatings did._

Mark woke up to Roger shaking him lightly.

"Wha..what?"

"Mark, wake up."

When he opened his eyes, he saw Roger and Mimi sitting on his bed, concerned looks plastered on their faces.

"What's going on?"

"Mark, you were crying in your sleep, honey," Mimi said softly. "Please tell us what's wrong."

"It's nothing, really," Mark quickly replied. This set off Roger.

"No, don't tell me it's nothing. I know there's something going on. For God's sake, Mark, when was the last time you actually ate something? Every night you're talking in your sleep. You can't seriously expect me to think you're fine."

"Yeah, Roger, as my best friend, I would expect you to believe me. I mean, that's what friends do, right? Trust each other?" Mark's words were like venom dripping from his mouth. "Why can't you just leave me alone?"

Mimi spoke up. "Mark, we are your friends, that's why we can't leave you alone. We know something's wrong, and we just want to help." She placed her hand lovingly on Mark's arm.

Mark yanked his hand away and stood up quickly, walking towards the door. "Just back off, okay!" He yelled before throwing the door open and walking out.

"Mark!" Roger yelled after him, but it was useless. He was gone.

* * *

AN: Well, then, guys, there's the next chapter. Please hit the magic little button and tell me what you thought. I know a large chunk of this chapter was a flashback, but I feel it's important to see things through Mark's eyes so you can understand how he's feeling. So yeah, please review! Thank you a million times over in advance!


	5. Make Me Understand

Title: Leaving the Past Behind

Summary: Mark has a dark past that Roger doesn't know about. When an event triggers the memories, he begins to have nightmares. They threaten to destroy him and Roger must help him through it. Mark depression story, but not slash. Post-RENT

Category: Angst & Hurt/Comfort

Rating: T for Adult themes, language

Disclaimer: I don't own RENT, God bless Jonathan Larson - Thank you for creating one of the most amazing pieces of art I have ever seen.

* * *

**Chapter 5: Make Me Understand**

Roger sat on the couch with his head in his hands. A few moments of silence went by before Mimi came and sat down next to him.

"You're going to look for him, aren't you?"

"I don't know. I'm thinking maybe I should give him some time to cool off. He was so mad. I don't want to push him away. I'm afraid he might do something stupid."

"Roger, he could do something stupid if you don't go find him now."

"Shit. You're right. I don't even know where he could have gone." Roger quickly stood up and grabbed a jacket and scarf before rushing out the door and leaving Mimi to fend for herself.

Roger walked out into the bitterly cold air. It was nearly four in the morning and the streets were amazingly quiet. He stood for a moment thinking about where his best friend might have gone. It had been two days since the incident and Mark had completely spiraled out of control. Roger knew that there had to be more behind it than a simple mugging.

He started down Avenue B and circled around the area, eventually heading to the Life Cafe. He glanced up and down each street hoping desperately to see Mark filming with that damn camera. Roger was overwhelmed. He decided to stop for a moment and listen to the sounds of the city. He opened his eyes when he heard the sound of someone sobbing. He followed the noise down an alleyway to find Mark crouched down against the wall, crying into his jacket.

Roger ran to his side. "Mark, I'm sorry, okay? Please tell me what's wrong."

Mark jerked away. "No, don't touch me. Don't touch me."

Roger was confused. Why was Mark acting like this? Mark of all people? Good ol' level-headed Mark. It just wasn't right. "Mark, please, we're like brothers. Please tell me what's going on with you? You're seriously freaking me out."

Mark stared straight ahead, his eyes cast downward and dark, as he continued to sob. "Roger, there are some things you just don't know about me."

"Then tell me, Mark. _Make_ me understand. Ever since last weekend, you've barely eaten anything, or said anything." Roger placed a hand on Mark's shoulder who tried with all his might to jerk away, only to be defeated by the brick wall behind him. Roger waited a few moments before taking Mark's hand and helping him stand. "Come on, let's just head back to the loft. You need some sleep."

Mark continued to sob on the short way back to the loft. Roger did his best to hold him up, but it was difficult.

When they got back, Mimi jumped up and met them at the door. "Mark? What's wrong? What are you so upset about?"

Roger looked up at Mimi and gently shook his head. She quietly took Mark's other arm and helped him back to his room. Mark felt absolutely pathetic. Why was something that happened so long ago affecting him this way? Why could he not stop crying? He simply sat on his bed, crying softly to himself while Roger searched for some dry, warm clothes for him to change into.

Settling on a pair of large grey sweatpants and a sweatshirt, Roger turned to see Mark shivering on the bed. "Come on, Mark, let's get you changed." Roger gently removed Mark's jacked, followed by his long-sleeve t-shirt. Roger gently took Mark's arm to feed it through the sleeve of the sweatshirt when he felt small, linear bumps. Roger turned up Mark's wrists and gasped quietly. When Mark realized what was happening, he quickly pulled them back and stared intently at the floor.

"Mark? How…is this…what did you do to yourself?"

"Just let me go to bed, Rog. I want to go to bed, okay?" Mark's pleads pulled at Roger's heartstrings. He felt so conflicted. It was late. The chances of Mark doing anything stupid at this point were slim. But what if something happened? Was it possible for Roger to keep an eye on Mark 24/7? That's it. That's the plan. Roger could just watch Mark through the night. It would give him time to discuss things with Mimi and figure out a real plan of action.

It was hard for him to do, but Roger nodded and continued helping Mark get dressed. Finally Mark was able to lay down. Roger covered him up with a blanket, in hopes that he would recover the lost body heat.

"Do you need anything?" he asked the smaller man softly.

Mark shook his head and wiped the few remaining tears from his face. Roger nodded and walked out of the room, sure to leave the door slightly open.

Mimi looked up as soon as Roger came out. "Well?" she asked quietly.

"It's a lot worse than we thought," Roger replied, sighing. "He's been cutting."

Mimi's stomach dropped. She couldn't imagine Mark doing something so detrimental to his health. "So you're gonna just let it go?" she worriedly asked.

"No, of course not. I just don't want to push him now. I'm afraid of what he could do. He needs to talk about whatever it is that's making him so upset, but I don't know how to do it without causing a complete mental breakdown."

Roger sat on the couch and placed his head in his hands. "God, Mimi. I just don't know what to do."

She sat silent for a moment before nodding in agreement. "Maybe we should talk to Collins. I mean, he might know what to do, right?"

"There's no way we could tell Collins. Mark would go insane. I think we should just watch him for tonight, and hopefully talk to him about it tomorrow."

Mimi nodded and the two of them drifted into a fitful sleep on the couch.

The next morning, Roger got up early and checked on Mark. He was sleeping somewhat peacefully in his bedroom. Roger took this opportunity to call Buzzline.

The phone rang twice before the receptionist picked up.

"Buzzline, this is Kara, how may I help you?"

"Yes, can I speak to Alexi Darling, please?"

"Sure, one moment."

Roger waited patiently as a track of truly annoying elevator music came over the phone.

"This is Alexi."

"Alexi, this is Roger Davis. I'm calling on behalf of Mark Cohen. He won't be coming in today, he's feeling a little under the weather."

"Now, Mr. Davis, I hope Mr. Cohen is aware of the importance of the current project and how this absence will affect his paycheck?"

"Yes, of course he is. I'm sure he will be in tomorrow," Roger replied rigidly. He didn't believe a word of this, but anything to make her shut up. He hung up the phone quickly and shook his head. He had no idea how Mark put up with her.

Roger poured himself a cup of coffee and sat on the couch to relax. Suddenly, Mark came rushing out of the bedroom and began furiously searching the room.

"God, Roger, how could you let me sleep this long? I'm supposed to be to work in ten minutes. Shit, Alexi's gonna kill me."

"Chill Mark, you're not going to work today."

"What do you mean, I'm not going to work today?" A slight panic came over his voice.

"I mean, I called you in. You're not going to work."

"Roger, no, you don't understand. You can't do that. We need money. Rent, your AZT, food. I can't just not work."

"Well, for now you can. Mark, you're sick. You need to get help. I don't know what's wrong, and I won't know unless you tell me. But until then, you're staying home."

Mark laughed nervously. "You're kidding, right? What the hell Roger? You can't keep me from working. I can do whatever I want to, when I want to. This is ridiculous. I'm not a kid."

Roger began to get frustrated, but knew he had to keep his cool in order to take care of Mark. "Yeah, Mark, you're not a kid. But you sure are acting like one. There is something seriously wrong and all you can do is ignore everything and throw yourself into your work. Well, it's gone too far. If you don't tell me now, I swear to God Mark, I will take you to the hospital because I can't stand to sit here and watch you hurt yourself."

Mark stared angrily at Roger as tears sprang to his eyes. He wasn't sure what to do. He knew there was no possible way out of this.

* * *

AN: Hey guys, I'm so sorry about getting this to you so late. The last two months have been absolutely insane. I started college, which is fun, but oh so stressful. It's so much more work than high school ever was.

And then I won the RENT Finale B contest and went to NYC the weekend RENT closed. I went to a party at the Life Café, saw the 2nd to last performance of RENT and saw Spring Awakening three times. (I definitely recommend SA, it's a great show!)

So yeah, and since I got back, it's been non-stop studying. I want to keep going with this story more than anything so I keep plugging along. Let me know what you thought of this chapter. I need to know if you feel like it's just as good as the Pre-College chapters or if I should be spending a little more time on my writing. Thanks guys, you're awesome.


	6. Don't Shut Me Out

Title: Leaving the Past Behind

Summary: Mark has a dark past that Roger doesn't know about. When an event triggers the memories, he begins to have nightmares. They threaten to destroy him and Roger must help him through it. Mark depression story, but not slash. Post-RENT

Category: Angst & Hurt/Comfort

Rating: T for Adult themes, language

Disclaimer: I don't own RENT, God bless Jonathan Larson - Thank you for creating one of the most amazing pieces of art I have ever seen.

* * *

**Chapter 6: Don't Shut Me Out**

Roger hoped that with Mimi out for the day, Mark might be more comfortable talking about whatever it was that was bothering him. Brother to brother.

Mark sighed loudly with frustration. He knew he'd reached a dead end and there was nowhere else for him to run. He'd have no choice but to tell Roger everything. There was no other option.

"Sit." Roger said sternly, motioning to the beaten-up couch in their loft.

Mark slowly walked forward, taking a seat on the complete opposite end to be as far away from Roger as possible.

"Now, tell me what's changed. Tell me why you feel the need to hurt yourself and why you can't sleep without having these horrible nightmares."

Mark didn't know where to start. As much as he wanted to tell Roger everything he wanted to hear, he wanted to sit in a dark corner and cry. There was just so much Roger didn't know. Mark knew the truth would hurt him, and he didn't want to do that. Roger had been hurt enough. To add to that would be a sin.

Mark tried with every ounce of himself to ignore Roger and stay focused on the dirt spot on the floor, but as every second ticked by, he felt Roger's eyes burning into his body.

"We—well, it um, I guess…" Mark was struggling to find the words to explain it. Truth be told, he had never spoken about it out loud to anyone. Ever. As if telling Roger about it wasn't hard enough, now he had to figure out how to put such a horrible experience into terms that someone who hasn't been there can understand.

Roger stayed quiet, respecting the delicacy of the situation. He felt he had pushed Mark enough. Now it was time to listen. When he realized the difficulty Mark was having, he moved over so he was sitting next to him and squeezed his hand to remind him he was safe. "It's okay, go on," he encouraged.

"Well, you see, my-my Dad, he had these spells where he would just get angry for no reason. Well, I mean, not like angry, but I guess just um—well, I don't know, frustrated I guess."

Mark began to sweat as his brain went into overdrive, tearing open old wounds from his past. He didn't want to be thinking about any of it. His hand twitched ever so slightly as he thought about the cuts beneath his sleeves. They were the healing he needed, not this _talking _thing that everyone always wanted.

Finally he jumped up quickly. "I—I—can't do this. I just can't." He strode to his bedroom as Roger tried desperately to catch up. He made it into his room and shut and locked the door swiftly before Roger could get there.

Roger banged his fist on the door, utterly frustrated and disappointed. "Mark, don't shut me out! Please talk to me."

"Go away!" he heard from inside the room. "I don't want your help, or need it. I don't know why you're doing this to me!"

Mark could nearly feel Roger's anger through the thin walls of the loft. He was shaking and trying to catch his breath. All the feelings, all the emotions he pushed aside throughout the years were pulsating through his veins at the same time. It was altogether too much for him to handle.

Remembering every single blow to his chest, all the bruises, all the cuts, made him feel like his heart was bursting. He fell into a deep sob as he fell onto the bed. He couldn't stop himself. His emotions ran off with his common sense with no hints about when it would be returned.

Roger's voice suddenly broke through his wall. "Mark, come on! Talk to me!"

Mark suddenly felt like the walls of the already small bedroom were closing in on him. "No, Roger, just go away!" he quickly yelled back as he fell on his knees to the floor looking for the box underneath his bed. He pulled it out and dumped all the contents on the floor.

As he pushed aside everything he had no interest in, he began mumbling, almost incoherently. "No escape, no way out. No more. So dark." Mark really had no idea what he was doing. He was being driven by the demons inside him. He grabbed the razor and pushed himself against the wall.

"No escape, no way out. No more," he unconsciously mumbled louder. He dragged the sharp blade across the already butchered skin.

"Mark? What are you doing Mark?" Roger began to throw himself against the locked door. Luckily, the age of the old loft shone through as the wood of the door frame began to crack. Suddenly, the door gave way and Roger fell into a scene he never wanted to see.

Mark was huddled against the wall, holding his wrist with blood oozing out of it.

"Fuck, Mark! What did you do?" He ran over to him and ripped the razor out of Mark's hand before he was able to recognize what was happening. Roger quickly grabbed a t-shirt out of a drawer and tied it tightly around his wrist to hold back the crimson liquid.

Mark looked up at Roger with tears in his eyes. "Ss…sorry. I'm sorry," he cried.

Roger picked up his small body, carried him into the main room of the loft, and set him on the couch. Mark just laid there, whimpering.

Once he was convinced that Mark was content where he was, Roger ran to the phone to call Joanne. He paced as he waited for her to pick up.

"Hello?"

"Joanne, it's Roger. Look, I know you're working and you're probably really busy, but it's Mark. Something is really wrong. I don't even really know that much, but remember how I told you he got beat up that night by those jerks? Ever since then, he's been acting weird. He was having nightmares and he wouldn't eat, and tonight, Joanne, he tried to kill himself." The words were spilling out of his mouth like word vomit.

"Whoa, whoa, slow down a second, he what?"

"Joanne, he just cut his wrist open. I don't think it's too bad, but he has to go to the hospital." Roger looked at Mark on the couch. Seeing him lay there in such emotional pain brought tears to his eyes.

"Okay, just relax Roger, I'll be there in five minutes, okay?"

Roger nodded and then realized that she couldn't see him. "O-okay."

He hung up the phone and sat next to Mark. "God, Mark, what could be so bad that you'd do something like this? I just don't understand." His questions were met with soft sobs, but no explanations.

The minutes passed by so slowly, but finally he saw Joanne pull up outside. Roger jumped up and helped Mark up.

"Come on, Mark. We need to get you to the hospital."

Mark jerked back in response. "No, no hospital. No hospital."

"Yes, Mark, you're going to the hospital." Mark fought back, but the combination of not eating and the blood loss made him an easy opponent for Roger. Roger helped him down the stairs and met Joanne and Maureen outside.

"Oh, God, Marky," Maureen said sadly.

"Come on, let's go," Roger said, getting Mark settled in the backseat.

The ride to the hospital was short. When they got there, Roger jumped out and walked Mark into the emergency room. A charge nurse met them at the door.

"What happened?"

Roger picked up Mark's wrapped up wrist. "He, he tried to kill himself. He cut open his wrist."

A tall doctor with dark brown hair came up to help. The nurse looked at him with sympathetic eyes. "Suicide attempt."

They quickly whisked Mark off to take care of him and left Roger standing alone in the hall.

* * *

AN: Well, there you have it. I got it out a lot sooner than I thought I would. I hope you like it. I'll admit, I had a difficult time writing this chapter. If you could please review it, I would greatly appreciate it. Let me know your thoughts or if there's something you'd like to see in the coming chapters. Thank you so much in advance. Have a great rest of the week.


	7. Take it All Away

Title: Leaving the Past Behind

Summary: Mark has a dark past that Roger doesn't know about. When an event triggers the memories, he begins to have nightmares. They threaten to destroy him and Roger must help him through it. Mark depression story, but not slash. Post-RENT

Category: Angst & Hurt/Comfort

Rating: T for Adult themes, language

Disclaimer: I don't own RENT, God bless Jonathan Larson - Thank you for creating one of the most amazing pieces of art I have ever seen.

* * *

**Chapter 7: Take it All Away**

Roger paced back and forth while Maureen and Joanne sat in the uncomfortable hospital chairs, desperately waiting to hear something, anything about Mark.

"Mark Cohen?" the doctor from earlier asked, coming out into the waiting room.

Roger walked towards him immediately. "Yes?" he asked expectantly.

The man offered his hand. "Hi, I'm Dr. Harper. I took care of Mr. Cohen when he first came in."

"Is he going to be alright?" Roger asked quickly.

The man nodded. "He will be fine. I stopped the bleeding and for now put him in soft restraints to keep him from destroying the wrap on his wrist. Luckily, he didn't cut very deep. Obviously, in the ER, our most important goal is to stabilize him physically, and then to assess his mental condition."

The doctor motioned towards two chairs and sat down. "How well do you know Mark?"

Roger swallowed, trying to take it all in. "We're roommates. I've known him a long time. He's like my brother."

"What can you tell me about his mental state over the past few weeks or so? Is this change in behavior recent, or has it happened in the past?"

"Well, he was fine until just last weekend. He was mugged when he was coming home. They beat him up pretty bad, but he was alright. Then after that, he just started like going to work and coming home and nothing else. I mean, he hasn't even really eaten anything since then. And he started having nightmares, he was talking in his sleep. Then he had this meltdown last night. I tried to ask him what was wrong and he ran off. I found him outside on the street crying and shaking." Roger had to take a few moments to regain his composure before continuing. "He wouldn't let me touch him. I saw cuts on his wrists. Small ones, lines, lots of them. I got him back to the loft and in bed."

The doctor nodded his head and took mental notes. "And what happened today?"

"I told him he wasn't going to work until he told me what was going on. God, I knew I shouldn't have pushed him." Roger placed his head in his hands and tried to focus on anything except the tears racing to his eyes.

"It's alright. It's not your fault – that is one thing you have to understand. The attempted suicide of a loved one is never your fault."

Roger shook his head. "I pushed him too hard. I told him he had to tell me otherwise I would bring him to the hospital. He tried to tell me, but he couldn't and then he just locked himself in his room. I got worried about him so I pushed until the door frame busted and he was just leaning against the wall, holding his wrist. There was blood everywhere."

"So you're not sure what caused this sudden depression?"

"No, he started to say something about his Dad, but he never finished. I never found out what it was that threw him like that."

Dr. Harper nodded his head in understanding. "Well, what we're going to do next is have someone from our Behavioral Health Department come down to talk to him. That person will decide what happens from there. Either he is discharged and we come up with an Outpatient plan of action to pursue or we decide to hospitalize him either by commitment or voluntarily."

"How long do you think that will take? Can I go see him?"

"You can definitely go see him. Someone should be down within the hour. If it's alright with him, it might help to have you there for support or to give any extra information."

Roger nodded and followed the doctor through the swinging doors into the ER and then into one of the exam rooms. Roger was hesitant about entering, afraid of what he would see. The sight was definitely not a pleasant one. Mark's face was plagued with dark circles under his eyes. His wrists were tied to the sides of the bed. It was for his own protection, but it still wasn't pretty. It was very surreal seeing Mark in that position. He looked so helpless and hurt. It made Roger wish he had a magic wand of some sort that would just solve everything. If only depression worked that way.

Mark looked up when he saw them enter the room and then quickly returned his gaze to his feet.

"I'll leave you two be. If you need anything, press the call button." Dr. Harper quietly left the room, shutting the door tightly behind him.

Roger pulled the chair next to the bedside and stared at Mark, who kept his gaze down, fearing the consequences of making eye contact. And from there, Roger stayed silent, putting into action the technique of many therapists of using the awkwardness of silence to force the patient to talk. The theory is, the longer the silence lasts, the more uncomfortable the person will become.

The room stayed still until Mark began to tap his fingers on the metal railings of the bed – trying to fill the silence, no doubt. Finally he spoke.

"Why are you here?" He said it in a menacing fashion. Something that Roger wasn't quite expecting.

"I'm here because I care, Mark. Because I don't want to see you hurt yourself like this."

Mark shook his head. "No, no, you don't care. You shouldn't care. I know what I'm doing. Why couldn't you just leave me like I asked?" His voice became softer with each word. "That's all I wanted was for you to leave me alone, and you couldn't do that? I had things covered. I went to work, I got the groceries, and your AZT. I was doing everything I needed to do. Why wouldn't you just lay off?"

Roger was hurt by the things he was saying. The real Mark would have never said such a thing. Then again, the real Mark had been absent for days now. He only hoped that the real Mark would find his way back somehow and soon.

"No, Mark. I do care and I always will. You don't know what you're doing. You're going completely out of control. You tried to kill yourself." Roger stressed this last point. "That's serious stuff, Mark. What could have been so bad that you thought no life was better than what you had?"

Mark sat for a moment, seeing the tears well up in Roger's eyes. He never wanted to hurt him. Never. "I-I-just I don't know." His breath caught on each word. He couldn't find any answers to Roger's questions. He began to sob. It seemed like crying was all he could do now. It had become his answer to every question. He was so over-stressed. He just couldn't handle it.

"Please, Roger. I don't want to talk about this right now. I will, I promise, just not right now. I just want to sleep."

Roger saw the pleading eyes of his best friend and nodded his head, taking Mark's hand in his own and giving it a soft squeeze. "Just promise me you really will talk to someone about this, eventually."

Mark nodded frantically. "Yes, I will. I promise."

Roger accepted Mark's answer as sincere and nodded again. Mark, in reply, set his head against the pillow and gently closed his eyes.

Almost immediately, Mark was thrown back into the world of his subconscious.

_The weather outside was cold. It was a typical winter for Scarsdale. Snow on the ground and a soft flurry being blown around from the wind. It was pitch black outside except for the occasional street lamp that really gave hardly any light at all. _

_ Mark, thirteen at the time, stared out the window as the flakes of snow glistened in the faint light. He could feel a slight chill drifting through the tiny pockets in the window. It was easily fifteen degrees outside – an average temperature for the middle of January._

_ Suddenly, he heard the call from the living room. "Mark! Get down here right now!" Mark flinched, jumping up from the windowsill almost immediately and stumbling to get down the stairs as fast as his small feet could carry him. He reached the bottom and found his father standing in the family room, his face a most interesting shade of red._

_ "Mark, how many God damn times have I told you to keep your shit picked up?"_

_ Mark glanced at the floor to find a small pile of Legos. He waited to answer, utterly confused because his Legos had been packed away in his room for at least a year. He hadn't touched them._

_ "I-I didn't, I didn't put those there. I don't know how they got there." He immediately regretted his answer as his father's face turned a new shade of red Mark had previously deemed impossible._

_ "You don't know how they got here, huh? You lying piece of shit! Don't give me that bullshit! Do you think they just magically appeared here or what? After all I do for you and you lie to me?"_

_ His father's voice got louder and louder with each syllable. Mark saw his mother peek her head out of the kitchen and wince when she saw what was occurring. Cindy was sitting on the floor in utter disbelief of what was happening. She looked like she wanted to cry._

_ Mark's father continued his yelling, even though he'd temporarily lost the attention of the root of his rage. "I give you food to eat and a bed to sleep in and this is how you treat me?" The large man grabbed Mark by the ear and began to drag him towards the front door. "I'll show you what it's like to not live with those luxuries. Maybe you'll learn to appreciate everything I do for you!"_

_ "Frank no, please don't!" His mother's voice suddenly called out._

_ "Shut up, the boy needs this. He needs to learn to appreciate what he's got," he snapped back. He reached the front door, opened it, and pushed Mark outside. "Now maybe you'll think twice about disrespecting me!"_

_ The cold immediately seeped into the small holes of Mark's sweater. After all, he had no jacket, or hat, or mittens to protect him. Just his regular clothes. He began shivering almost immediately. Tears were freely flowing from his eyes as he looked around desperately for a warm place to stay. He settled on the corner next to the back porch stairs. It would block him from the wind hopefully long enough for his Mom to rescue him._

_ Mark Cohen sat shivering outside for an hour before his Mom came looking for him to bring him in. As usual, she said nothing. She simply gave him a cup of warm tea, wrapped him up in a blanket, and helped him upstairs to his bed. He continued to shiver on his bed until he heard a quiet knock on his door. He looked up to see Cindy standing in the doorway. She had tears in her eyes. Mark immediately went into 'strong brother' mode when he saw she was upset._

_ "Hey Cind, what's wrong?"_

_ She immediately climbed up on his bed and began to cry. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I got the Legos out earlier and I didn't put them away. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to get you in trouble." Cindy broke into heaving sobs and Mark held her._

_ "No, it's okay. You don't need to be sorry, Cindy. It's not your fault. I don't blame you for any of this. You know Dad, he just gets mad sometimes. It's okay, I promise."_

_ She looked up at him. "So you're not mad at me? You don't hate me?"_

_ Mark shook his head. "No, Cindy. I don't hate you. I love you. I always will, okay? Now go get back into bed, it's late. You need some sleep."_

_ Cindy nodded and sauntered out of the room. Mark finally let go of all the shivers he had been trying to subdue. He felt awful that his sister would actually think he hated her. And all because of his father. He had to keep her safe, no matter what._

Roger looked up when he noticed a restlessness coming from the bed. Mark was shivering rigidly. Roger stood up, took an extra blanket from below the bed, and laid it over Mark, tucking in the sides.

"I don't know what's hurting you Mark, but I wish I could take it all away," he said quietly to himself, staring at his best friend.

* * *

AN: Hey guys, well, here you go! Gotta love fall break. Gives you time for much more important things like FanFiction! Hehe.

Just a heads up here, but I'm participating in National Novel Writing Month again this year, so updates might lag during the month of November because it's going to be hard enough to make the 50,000 word quota by itself – let alone updating other stories. If I don't think I'm going to make it, I will work on LTPB because I would rather give you guys an update then work on my NaNoWriMo project if I know I'm not going to make it. I will try and get another chapter done before November starts though so no worries.

Thank you so much for all of your support! It is so greatly appreciated! Best wishes to all of you!


	8. I Can't Do This

Title: Leaving the Past Behind

Summary: Mark has a dark past that Roger doesn't know about. When an event triggers the memories, he begins to have nightmares. They threaten to destroy him and Roger must help him through it. Mark depression story, but not slash. Post-RENT

Category: Angst & Hurt/Comfort

Rating: T for Adult themes, language

Disclaimer: I don't own RENT, God bless Jonathan Larson - Thank you for creating one of the most amazing pieces of art I have ever seen.

* * *

**Chapter 8: I Can't Do This**

Mark was gently shaken awake a short time after falling asleep. He opened his eyes and gave them a moment to focus on the person in front of him. It was Roger, of course. He tried to rub his eyes only to realize that his wrists were still tethered to the bed. He sighed in frustration and laid his head back down.

"Dr. Harper said the therapist would be down in a few minutes, so you should probably get up."

Mark groaned quietly and rolled his eyes. "I want to just go home. I hate being here."

Roger nodded with sympathy. "I know you do. But you know they won't even think about sending you home until you talk to one of their people. There's no way around it."

Mark sighed and desperately wished he could roll over so he didn't have to face Roger. He knew people were watching him now. He did so well hiding it and something just had to come along and fuck everything up. Funny how that happens. He sailed along peacefully for years without even so much as a question. He surely thought getting out of town would have solved everything.

There was a light knock on the door and a woman with dark brown hair walked in. She had soft features with dark green eyes and a smile that said she loved her job, thought Mark couldn't imagine why. She looked at Roger and held out her hand.

"Hi, I'm Dr. Cordero, I'm the on-call Psychologist for the Behavior Health Department."

Roger looked at her thankfully and introduced himself. "I'm Roger Davis, and this is Mark, my friend.

Noticing that she would be unable to shake Mark's hand, she settled with a glance and a nod towards him. "Mark, is it alright if Roger stays here during our session?"

Mark sat for a second, thinking about the conversation they had a short while ago. He had promised to talk to _someone_ about it, not necessarily explain it to Roger directly. He could feel Roger's eyes on him while he thought about it and nonetheless answered, "Yeah, it's fine."

She smiled at him, recognizing the internal battle over the simple question. "Okay, Mark, I want to explain to you what exactly is going to happen today. First we're going to talk about what happened. I want to know what you're feeling and why you might be having these feelings. After that, Dr. Harper will do a physical examination to accompany the psychological one. Then I will go over the results with your doctor and we will all sit down and decide what the best plan of action is. Does that sound okay?"

"Like I have a choice," Mark scoffed.

"Mark," Roger said, warningly.

"It's alright Mr. Davis. Mark, what happened today?" she said, coolly.

"Like you don't already know," Mark replied with the same anger he'd used a moment ago.

"Mark, I know you don't want to be here. You aren't going home any faster if you don't cooperate. I'd really like to work with you on this."

A few moments of silence went by before Mark finally gave in. "I just got overwhelmed. I couldn't handle it."

Dr. Cordero seemed pleased. "Couldn't handle what? What was so stressful about it?"

Mark wanted to get through the exam revealing the least amount of information, but he was beginning to believe it wasn't going to be possible.

"Everything. It was just all coming so fast." Mark could feel tears springing to his eyes. It turned to anger. "No! I can't do this. I don't want to do this!" He tried everything he could to get away from their prying eyes. He closed his eyes in an attempt to get their faces out of his mind.

Roger felt awful for Mark. He could see his pain and his apparent unwillingness to speak of it. Dr. Cordero kept her voice calm. "Mark, I know this is difficult for you, but you will feel so much better once you talk about it."

"You don't know shit! You have no idea what it was like!" Tears leaked out of his eyes rapidly as he thrashed back and forth trying desperately to free himself. He couldn't handle being there any longer. Going home was not worth being subjected to this torture.

"Calm down, Mark, it's alright," she said gently. Roger was at a loss for words as he watched the scene unfold before him.

Seeing no signs of Mark slowing down, Dr. Cordero called for a nurse. A woman with long blonde hair, walked in with a syringe. As she approached Mark, he lost it. It took both women to hold him down as much as possible for the young nurse to insert the needle into his thigh. Within moments, Mark turned groggy and drifted into a fitful sleep.

Roger began to cry at Mark's bedside. Mark had gotten him through some of the worst times in his life. He hated seeing his brother like this. It wasn't right.

"Mr. Davis?"

Roger looked up, tears glistening on his cheeks. He suddenly wiped them away, feeling foolish. "You can call me Roger."

"Roger, would you mind talking to me for a little while? Maybe get something to eat?"

Roger looked at Mark for a moment, worried about leaving him, but then obliged, knowing he would be in good hands. He went upstairs with Dr. Cordero to the hospital cafeteria and sat at a table in the back corner.

"How well do you know Mark?" she asked, once he was adjusted.

"Like a brother. He's been my roommate for a long time now."

"Okay, so I know you talked to Dr. Harper earlier and you said he just started having these symptoms as of recently?"

"Yeah, I mean, I barely noticed it. It's only been a few days, but it just happened so fast. I woke him up from this nightmare last night and I tried to talk to him about it and he just took off. I found him outside crying. He had cuts all over his arm and I took him back to the loft. Then today I told him he had to tell me what was going on and that's when he went ballistic. He locked himself in his bedroom and just completely tore his arm up with a razor. God, it was awful."

"Did he seem completely conscious like he knew what he was doing?"

"Not really. He was just so upset and confused. I've never seen him like that in my life. Never."

"Do you know if he's been using any recreational drugs? Anything at all?"

"No, he would never bring himself to do that. Ever since he pulled me out of my addiction, he swore he never would." Roger remembered those nights when he would beg for the drugs and Mark stayed strong, refusing to give in. It was the best thing he could do for him.

"Do you know if he has any family history of depression?" Dr. Cordero was writing rapidly on his chart, taking in every bit of information.

"I have no idea. I never knew Mark's family that well. I know that he didn't have the best relationship with them. He moved to the city as soon as he graduated. He hated living at home."

She noted it in her chart as a possible cause for the distress and moved on.

"Do you believe what happened today was a suicide attempt?" She had no way of knowing if he was just cutting, or if he truly wanted to kill himself. After all, her interview with him was less than productive.

Roger stayed quiet for a few moments. He didn't want to think about it. Mark, his Mark. There was no way he could have possibly wanted to kill himself, right? "I don't know. He was saying some really horrible things. I don't know how far he would have gone if I hadn't gotten to him."

Dr. Cordero recognized his reluctance to talk about the worst case scenario and decided that she had questioned him enough.

"Roger, thank you very much for talking to me. What's going to happen next is I'm going to still have Dr. Harper perform the physical examination when Mark wakes up. I will try one more time to talk to him, and then we will figure out what to do next. I assure you we will be able to work something out to help him."

Roger nodded. "Thank you."

"Why don't you go back downstairs and sit with him. I'm sure he needs you right now." She smiled at him and stood up to leave.

"Yeah, I think I will. Thank you again for your help." As she walked away, Roger eagerly finished his meal so he could get back to Mark.

Before going back to the room, he went to talk to Maureen and Joanne. He knew they had been waiting for a long time and were probably wondering what was going on.

As soon as he approached them, they both jumped out of their lethargic state and asked what was happening.

"Mark's okay for now. Well…I mean…he's not exactly _okay_ but he's stable. They have someone from Behavioral Health monitoring his case. I don't know what they're going to do with him yet."

Maureen stepped forward and took Roger's hand. "I'm so sorry. If there's anything we can do, let me know, okay?"

Roger nodded. "I'm going to sit with him for a while. You two should go home. We'll be fine here."

"When you're ready to come back, call me and I'll come pick you up, okay? And let me know if anything changes." Joanne's voice sounded just as lost as Roger's.

"Yeah, I will, I promise."

* * *

AN: Hey everyone. I want to give a shout out to Sarah Elizabeth Emily Woods who gave me the inspiration to get back to work on this after a long bout of writers block. I told myself I wasn't going to bed tonight until I had this chapter up. Thank you for your patience. I appreciate each and every one of you who take the time to read this and review.

I hope you all have a nice week.


	9. He Was Stronger

Title: Leaving the Past Behind

Summary: Mark has a dark past that Roger doesn't know about. When an event triggers the memories, he begins to have nightmares. They threaten to destroy him and Roger must help him through it. Mark depression story, but not slash. Post-RENT

Category: Angst & Hurt/Comfort

Rating: T for Adult themes, language

Disclaimer: I don't own RENT, God bless Jonathan Larson - Thank you for creating one of the most amazing pieces of art I have ever seen.

* * *

**Chapter 9: He Was Stronger**

Roger walked into Mark's room to find him asleep. He could hardly fathom the day's events. It seemed like Mark had gone from zero to sixty in four days. And now to see him lying there helpless, it hurt. One part of Roger was angry that Mark just couldn't seem to accept the help that was in front of him. The other part of him was sad that whatever happened was so painful that he can't bear to talk about it.

Another forty-five minutes or so went by before Mark began to stir. Roger stood up and walked to his bedside so he knew he was there. Mark opened his eyes, but as soon as he saw Roger, he turned his head.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, harshly.

"For the same reason I was here earlier and I won't be leaving later. I care about you."

Mark stayed quiet until Dr. Harper came in.

"Hello Mark, glad to see you're awake."

"Aren't we all?" he mumbled in reply.

Dr. Harper frowned at his patient, realizing that things hadn't gotten any better. "Well, I must ask Roger to leave now, because I need to complete a physical examination."

Roger nodded, squeezed Mark's hand, and left.

Mark felt abandoned and suddenly felt guilty for not asking Roger to stay. He didn't want to be in that room alone. It made him feel exposed.

Dr. Harper went through the general motions of checking Mark's heart, lungs, and reflexes. Mark stayed stoic and quiet through the entire exam, though he had difficulty when it came to looking at his wrists.

When the doctor asked Mark to remove his shirt, he lost it inside. He didn't want to be touched at all, really. His hands began to shake and he shrank away from every touch. Dr. Harper recognized that Mark was getting to his breaking point and decided he'd collected enough information. He would pair it with his chart from previous hospital visits and submit it to Dr. Cordero.

Roger came back in to sit with Mark. When he saw the look on Mark's face, he reached out to place a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't touch me," Mark said quickly, pushing himself further into the mattress to escape Roger's hand.

"Mark, come on, I'm not going to hurt you." Roger was upset by Mark's reaction. He didn't know what else to do for him. He felt lost. He longed to know how Mark put up with him while he was going through withdrawal. It must have been nearly impossible.

"I know, Roger. Just please…..don't."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"_No_, I don't want to talk about it. I want to get the hell out of here. But we can't do that, gotta keep the crazy man tied to the bed!" Mark held up his tethered wrists for emphasis.

"Mark, you're not crazy. I just don't want you to hurt yourself anymore. God…" Roger was at a loss for words. It was like he knew what he wanted to say, but didn't know how to say it. "I need you, Mark. Even if you don't think so. You've always been the smart one. You kept _me _sane. I don't know what I would do without you."

Mark was utterly confused by his words. "How could you possibly want me around? Look how many problems I cause. I'm not worth the trouble, I can assure you."

"How could you possibly think you're not worth the trouble? Do you think I would have reacted like I did if I thought you weren't worth it? Come on, Mark. Get real. I have no idea what happened to you or why you're upset, but you have to get better. You're stronger than this. You were always stronger than me. This is nothing."

"No, Roger, I'm not stronger." Mark paused and took a deep breath, realizing that this was his time to come clean. "I was never stronger. _He _was always stronger than me. I was so little. And he knew it. I just was never good enough."

Realizing that new information had been released, Roger walked close to the bed and tried to take Mark's hand. "What do you mean, Mark? Who was stronger?"

Mark pulled away, well as far as he could, and began crying again as everything spilled out. "My Dad. I was always bad, I never did anything right. And he was just so much stronger than me. I just couldn't do anything right! God damn it! I just wasn't good enough!" Mark was visibly angry. He couldn't hold it in any longer. He banged his hands against the metal bars they were tied to.

Roger was startled by his outburst. "Whoa Mark, settle down. Talk to me. What do you mean you weren't good enough?"

"Everything I did was wrong! 'Mark, you put the dishes in the wrong place! Mark, there's dirt on the floor. Mark, why don't you pick up your fucking toys!'" The more he struggled against the restraints, the more angry he became. "Get me out of these things!"

"Hold on, Mark," Roger said, going out in the hallway to find someone. He was lucky enough to find Dr. Cordero at the Nurse's Station. He motioned for her to follow him and she instructed a nurse to follow as well.

When they entered the room, she immediately tried to take control of the struggling man. "Mark, Mark, listen to me. Settle down. I don't want to sedate you again, okay?"

Mark slowly fell into a shaking cry. "Why wasn't I good enough? Damn it."

"Mark, of course you were good enough. That wasn't your fault. You can't blame yourself."

The words didn't mean anything to him. By that point he was too far gone.

He was reduced to sobs. His body had lost all will to fight. He had been fighting his entire life. He just couldn't do it anymore. Roger looked over him sadly, so unsure of what to do.

Dr. Cordero tried to get Mark to open up but it just wasn't happening. He had once again built the ever familiar barrier between himself and the rest of the world. The doctor motioned for Roger to follow her into the hallway.

"What do we do now?" Roger asked as soon as they were out of Mark's earshot.

"Well, I'm not exactly sure. He's definitely not in any shape to go home anytime soon. He's mentally unstable and as much as you care for him, this is just too big for you to handle."

"I know, but he hates being here. I'm afraid it's just going to make him worse."

"Unfortunately, we can't really do anything about that. His distress is way too severe to just try an outpatient program. Hopefully, with the right combination of meds and therapy, we can get him past his issue with being here and move on to the more important issues."

Roger studied her. She looked hopeful, but he was just so unsure. His whole life, Mark was the responsible one, the level-headed one. Roger didn't think he was strong enough to go through this with him. But he had to. He owed Mark big time. Every minute Mark spent dealing with Roger's withdrawal, Roger owed to deal with his depression. They were family and that's what family does for each other.

"Since you're listed as his next of kin, you're going to have to make the decision of whether to hospitalize him or not. I can answer any questions you have and give you my opinion, but it's ultimately your decision."

"No, I definitely agree. I can't take him home like this. I can't handle another night like that."

"Okay, what I'll do is brief you on the plan of treatment, and have you sign some papers. Then we'll get him squared away up in Behavioral Health and you can go home and try to relax."

"I want to stay with him."

Dr. Cordero smiled kindly at him. "I know, but you won't do him any good waiting here. It's after six. I'm sure you're hungry and you've had a long day. Go see him and let him know that you care about him."

"Can I be the one to tell him that he's staying here?"

"Yes, definitely. It will probably be easier for him if you explain why you're doing it and why it's important for him to get healthy. Then go home, get something in your stomach, and get some rest. Come back in the morning when you've had time to rejuvenate."

Roger nodded in defeat, knowing that everything she was saying was correct. "Can I use your phone?"

"Yes, of course. There's a private room down the hall with a phone in it."

She led him into the room. It was small, with just an armchair and a small table. The lights were dimmed and walls were a deep blue color. Roger nodded his head in thanks and picked up the phone to dial Joanne's number.

"Roger? Do you know anything?"

"Yeah. They're going to keep him. He's too sick to go home. I guess it's kind of going to be a waiting thing. She said that they're going to try to find the right combination of meds and therapy to try and get him back on track."

"That sounds promising. I'm sure he's not too happy about it, though."

"Well, I actually haven't told him yet. I figured I would call you first. But no, I'm sure he's not going to be happy."

"Tell him that we love him very much. Tell him that we care about him and we're not trying to hurt him."

"Yeah, I will. Can you come get me in twenty or twenty-five minutes?"

"Yes, I'll be there. Call me if something changes."

"I will. Thanks Joanne. I really appreciate it."

"No problem. That's what family is for."

There was that word again. _Family. _It was his reason for leaving Mark here. He was doing it for his own good. Roger's thoughts sounded like he was trying to convince himself of that rather than simply making a statement. He dreaded going to tell him, but he knew he had to do it.

* * *

AN: Hey guys. Finally another update. I know it's been forever, but I haven't forgotten about this story. I know it's what you always hear, but things have definitely been busy. But I hope you enjoy this chapter and, rest assured, though it may be a while in between, this story will continue to be updated. And as a note, if I ever permanently give up on something, I will put a hiatus note in my profile.

Thank you to everyone who has added this to their favorite story/alert list over such a long break. It's great motivation for me and always puts a smile on my face. It is so greatly appreciated. Thanks everyone! Please R&R!


	10. One Day He Will Thank You For This

Title: Leaving the Past Behind

Summary: Mark has a dark past that Roger doesn't know about. When an event triggers the memories, he begins to have nightmares. They threaten to destroy him and Roger must help him through it. Mark depression story, but not slash. Post-RENT

Category: Angst & Hurt/Comfort

Rating: T for Adult themes, language

Disclaimer: I don't own RENT, God bless Jonathan Larson - Thank you for creating one of the most amazing pieces of art I have ever seen.

* * *

**Chapter 10: One Day, He Will Thank You For This**

Roger approached Mark's door and knocked softly. There was no reply so he decided just to go in. He saw Mark in a similar fashion he had seen him in earlier. His eyes were sunken in and bloodshot. He was staring up at the ceiling with no emotion whatsoever.

"Mark, I want to talk to you for a minute." Mark's expression stayed stoic and he didn't reply. Roger took this as an invite to converse anyway. He pulled the chair back up to the side of the bed, sat down, and took a deep breath.

"Mark, you've been worrying all of us so much. It hurts so much to think that you have such a strong desire to hurt yourself. Seeing you, earlier, with blood everywhere. It's a picture I will never forget as long as I live. And it's something that I never, ever want to see again."

Roger took another deep breath, dreading the words that would be uttered next. He swallowed hard, trying to expel the lump that had made its presence known deep in his throat.

"Mark…I..um, I know you're going to be mad at me, but I want you to know that I'm only doing this because I care so much about you. I'm not doing it to hurt you. I want to help you."

He swallowed uncomfortably one more time before getting to the main point of his speech.

"As your next of kin I am the one who is supposed to make medical decisions in the event that you can't make them for yourself. I talked to Dr. Cordero and agreed that it would not be good for you to go back to the loft with me tonight."

At the mention of that statement, Mark rigidly turned his head to look at Roger. His eyes conveyed a message of confusion and hurt.

"They're going to admit you to Behavioral Health. I don't know for how long, but they're going to take care of you and get you feeling better."

Mark began shaking his head. He balled his fists and his knuckles turned one of the brightest shades of white Roger had ever seen. "No, you can't do this to me. You can't leave me here!"

Tears pricked the corner of Roger's eyes. He didn't want to do it to him. But he knew if he didn't do it now, he could lose him forever.

"I'm sorry Mark. I don't want to hurt you or make you upset. But I promise that this is a good thing. You're going to be well taken care of. Better than I could do back at the loft."

Mark didn't seem to be hearing his words. He kept shaking his head. "Please Roger, I'll do anything. I'll…I'll talk to you and I'll get better I promise! Just please don't leave!"

"Really, Mark, I am so sorry. But I love you so much. You're a brother to me. We're family and we take care of each other. There were so many times I screamed at you when you wouldn't let me leave the loft during my withdrawal, but you knew it was what was best for me, even if I didn't think so at the time. Now this is what's best for you." Roger took his hand and squeezed it. "I'll be back tomorrow, I promise."

It took every ounce of courage for Roger to walk out of that room. He could hear Mark crying and asking him to stay. It tugged at his heart relentlessly.

Dr. Cordero was standing in the hallway looking at Roger with empathy.

"You did the right thing, Roger. One day, he will thank you for this, even if he isn't very appreciative now."

Roger nodded, his tears finally falling slowly down his cheeks. "I know. You'll call me if anything changes, right?"

She patted him on the back. "Yes, definitely. Go get some rest. You'll need it for tomorrow."

Roger went outside and waited for Joanne. She showed up promptly and he silently got in the car. He was slightly relieved that Maureen wasn't there. He wasn't in the mood for her.

He didn't say anything the entire way back to the loft. Joanne sensed the tension and decided that starting a conversation would not be a good idea.

They pulled up outside the loft and Roger turned to get out. Joanne put her hand on his shoulder, halting his move.

"Mark's going to be fine, Roger. Just give him some time."

Roger nodded, mumbled a quiet 'thanks' and climbed out of the car. He didn't turn to look at her for fear that she would see the tears her statement had brought to his eyes. He wasn't generally an emotional person. If anything, Roger tried to avoid emotion at all costs. But when it came to Mark, he just couldn't help it. His brother was hurting and he couldn't do anything about it.

He opened the door to the loft and saw Mimi sitting on the couch waiting for him. She had been there since Maureen called to tell her what happened. She had no idea whether Roger would be coming home with Mark or without him, but either way, she knew that he would need her.

As soon as she saw him, she jumped up, threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. The gesture made Roger's body and mind completely let loose. He was trying so hard to be the strong one during all of this and somehow her holding him told him it was okay to cry.

He sobbed in her arms, letting all the stress of the day pour out of him. All she could do was hold him. You can only say that things are going to be fine so many times before it gets old and people start asking for proof.

Roger regained his composure and rubbed his bloodshot eyes. Mimi's questioning eyes gazed up at him, begging for an update.

"They're admitting him to their psych ward. He's too much of a threat to himself." Roger paused, remembering everything that had happened at the hospital.

"Did he ever say what exactly it was that was making him so upset?"

Roger nodded. "It was something with his dad. It sounds like he was abused when he was a kid. He kept talking about how he wasn't good enough and how he was always getting yelled at for everything." Roger sighed and shook his head. "I never even knew it. He's never said anything about it. Ever. Never even hinted that something might be wrong. I mean, I know he never wanted to go home to visit his family, but lots of people don't want to see their family even when they got along with them. I didn't even think that he didn't want to go because he was _afraid_ to."

Mimi touched his cheek to wipe away a tear. "It's not your fault. None of us knew. And either way, what happened, happened. We can't change the past. We need to focus on the present and what Mark needs right now is our support, right?"

Roger nodded.

"So what exactly are they going to do with him?"

"Dr. Cordero, the psychologist, said that since I was his next of kin, I got to decide whether he would be discharged or admitted. She said that she believed he was too far gone to handle an outpatient program and if they admitted him, they would be trying a combination of medicine and therapy. I don't exactly know what that means, or how long he'll have to stay there, but I trusted her judgment." Roger paused again, still trying to drag his mind through the events of the day. "God, Mimi, you should have seen him when I told him that he needed to stay there. He was furious and terrified. He kept telling me that I couldn't leave him there. I wanted to take him home with me so bad, but I was so afraid he would try to hurt himself again."

"I know, Roger. Believe me, you did the right thing. He will calm down. He's safe where he is right now and that's the best place for him to be. And you aren't abandoning him, that's the most important thing. You're going to visit him and help him through it."

"Yeah, I guess you're right."

Mimi took Roger into her arms one more time and he hugged her tightly, trying to distract himself from the wrenching of his own heart.

Mimi made Roger something to eat, but he only took a few bites, saying he had lost his appetite. Finally, she encouraged him to lay down with her and try to get some sleep. As they laid there, she ran her fingers through his hair, calming him down. She listened as his breaths slowed and he drifted into a comfortable slumber. She stayed awake a while longer, making sure that he was going to sleep peacefully before finally falling asleep herself.

Roger's peaceful sleep didn't last long. Before he knew it, he found himself in a dream world, similar to the one that haunted Mark every night.

He was standing in the doorway to the bedroom, the same room that Mark had desecrated himself in earlier that day. Mark was standing in the bedroom with tears pouring down his cheeks. He looked Roger in the eye and spoke.

"You'll never be able to stop me. He was always stronger, but now I'm the stronger one. No one can stop me."

Roger watched in disbelief as Mark pulled out a pocket knife. He opened it up and brought it to his bare forearm.

Roger rushed towards him only to be stopped by some sort of invisible barrier. He banged his hands on it and kicked relentlessly to no avail.

"This is for you daddy," Mark said with malice before dragging the blade across his arm.

Roger screamed as the blood flowed freely out of Mark's arm.

Suddenly, he was pulled from the dream world back into his bedroom with Mimi.

"Roger, honey? Shh, shh. It was only a dream."

Roger could barely breathe through his intense sobbing.

"It…was…so…so….real." Each word came out as a gasp. "He was…bleeding…all…..over."

Mimi hugged him and rubbed his back. "It's okay, Mark is safe now, remember? He has people taking care of him. He's going to be okay."

Roger's sobs slowed to a quiet cry. He laid back down and tried to relax as Mimi continued to rub his back. He thought about Mark and how Dr. Cordero said he would be well taken care of. Unfortunately, he couldn't stop thinking about what state Mark would be in when he went to visit again.

* * *

AN: Happy holidays everyone! Here is your gift, another chapter only a week after the last one. This was born out of my constant avoidance of studying for finals.

After this week, I'm taking a train home to be with my family so this will probably be the last chapter posted until at least January. Something could come while I'm home, but I don't want to make any promises.

Let me know what you think of it. Thank you to my regular reviewers and to all of my readers. You guys rock!


	11. All of This Takes Time

Title: Leaving the Past Behind

Summary: Mark has a dark past that Roger doesn't know about. When an event triggers the memories, he begins to have nightmares. They threaten to destroy him and Roger must help him through it. Mark depression story, but not slash. Post-RENT

Category: Angst & Hurt/Comfort

Rating: T for Adult themes, language

Disclaimer: I don't own RENT, God bless Jonathan Larson - Thank you for creating one of the most amazing pieces of art I have ever seen.

**

* * *

Chapter 11: All of This Takes Time**

Roger awoke early the next morning feeling miserably groggy. After his first nightmare, he hadn't had any more, but somehow Roger knew that the sleep he did get wasn't the quality sleep he needed. The sun shone brightly in the bedroom and he squinted his eyes to get away from it. He sighed, still exhausted from everything that happened the day before, and sat up. Mimi heard him and turned over to face him.

"Hey baby. How are you feeling?"

Roger laughed lightly. "Truthfully? I feel like crap."

Mimi sat up and rubbed his shoulders lovingly. "He'll be okay. You're helping him to get better."

"I know, but it just feels wrong. The pain in his eyes just killed me." He stopped for a second and shook his head. "Why does it feel wrong?"

Mimi ran her hand through his hair. "Honey, you only want to help Mark and seeing him hurt, makes you hurt. That's totally normal. Just remember that it's going to be a tough road, but in the end it will all be worth it." She thought for a moment. "Remember your withdrawal? You were in pain during it. That hurt Mark just like Mark's pain hurts you. But look at you now. You're clean and you have an amazing, beautiful girlfriend who loves you." Mimi laughed gently at the last part.

Roger turned and smiled at her. "I don't know about the amazing part, but she sure is beautiful." Mimi swatted him on the shoulder.

The two of them sat for a few minutes in the silence. Suddenly, Roger hung his head. "Is it bad that I'm scared to go see him?"

"No, of course not. I can understand that. But you need to. That's your part in all of this. Your support is going to be what makes the whole thing work. Just remember that." He nodded and put his arms around her.

Mimi finally got up and dragged Roger into the kitchen. "You. Sit," she said smiling. He obeyed immediately, smiling back. She whipped up a nice bowl of cereal for him, one of the few foods they could afford. "Eat. No arguing."

She sat down and joined him, making sure he did what he was told. It was slow-going, but he did eventually finish it.

He went to the bedroom to change so he could go see Mark.

"Do you want me to go with you?" Mimi asked from the kitchen. He thought for a moment how nice it would be to have her with him, but then shook his head.

"I think this is something I should probably do myself." His voice wavered slightly and then became stronger. "I need to be his support right?" He gave her a half smile to reassure her.

"Yeah, I understand. Just remember, Mark loves you like a brother, he always will, no matter what."

He nodded. "I know."

He made a quick phone call to Joanne and would be on his way to the hospital within ten minutes. He gave Mimi a kiss before going downstairs.

As they pulled up to the hospital, Joanne queried the same thing that Mimi had. "Do you want me to go with you so you don't have to go alone?"

He shook his head, reassured her that it would be okay, and thanked her for the ride.

"No problem. Just call me when you're ready to leave or if you need anything at all."

He nodded and turned to face the entrance to the hospital. The sun climbed higher in the sky as it approached ten-o-clock. He took one last breath of clean air, well as clean as New York air can be, and went inside. Hospitals weren't usually a big deal to Roger, except when someone he loved was sick. Every time he smelled the disinfected air, he remembered Angel, and Mimi who had come so close to meeting Angel's fate.

He walked up to the information desk and saw a man, who looked to be in his sixties, sitting there. He looked up when he saw Roger. "Can I help you?"

"Uh, yeah. I'm here to visit my friend. Mark Cohen."

He began typing ferociously on the keyboard. "Cohen? Okay. One moment."

Roger looked around and began nervously tapping his foot. The man's voice scared him. "Okay Cohen is on 4 West, room 418. You'll need to take the 'C' elevators to the fourth floor and the person at the desk will be able to help you out."

Roger nodded and thanked the man. The hospital was very busy, a flurry of all types of people walking everywhere. He followed the sign to the 'C' elevators and pushed the 'up' button. His heart began beating faster as he stepped into the elevator. He pushed the number '4' and waited for the doors to close. Happy there was no one else in there, he leaned against the railing and put his head back. He tried to regulate his breathing so that his heart would slow down just a little.

The doors opened and he walked into what looked like a waiting room. There were somewhere around fifteen chairs placed around the room and in the middle of it, and two tables with magazines piled on them. He looked and saw a nurse sitting at the front window, next to the door. He walked up and waited for her to notice him.

She slid the clear glass window to the side and smiled. "Hi, can I help you?"

"Yes, I'm here to see Mark Cohen."

"Okay, go ahead and take a seat. It will be just a few minutes."

He turned and randomly chose a chair. He picked up one of the TIME magazines and flipped through it, trying to distract his mind. After a few seconds, he gave up and put it back. He began tapping his foot on the floor as he looked around the room. The walls were textured and painted some sort of light blue.

When the door opened, Roger jumped slightly. He turned to look and saw Dr. Cordero waiting for him.

"Hi Roger, come on in."

He got up and followed her inside. Through the first door was the desk where the nurse at the window sat, a row of small lockers, and another door.

"Okay, Leah is going to write you a visitor pass that you have to wear on your shirt at all times. Do you have any sharp or pointed objects on you?"

Roger shook his head.

"Alright what about strings, necklaces, shoelaces, or anything of the type?"

Her questions began making Roger uncomfortable. Was it that bad? Roger suddenly couldn't remember what shoes he was wearing. He looked down and saw that he was wearing shoes that didn't require laces.

"No."

Dr. Cordero picked up on his unease. "Don't worry, Roger. It's just a formality. We have to do this for the safety of all our patients."

He nodded and Dr. Cordero took the pass from Leah. She peeled the backing off of it and handed the sticker to Roger. He put it on his jacket on the upper right side of his chest and smoothed it down.

"Okay, follow me." She turned and typed a six digit number into the keypad on the wall on the right side of the door. There was a quiet click and she opened the door.

"First, I'm going to have you come to my office so I can tell you what we've done so far and what the treatment plan is looking like."

He followed her down a long hallway and turned into an office at the end of it. He took a seat in front of her desk as she pulled out Mark's file from the pile on her desk. Roger looked up and saw her degrees hung on the wall.

"Okay, so when we admitted Mark last night, we kept it simple. We gave him some scrubs so he doesn't have to wear a hospital gown. If you'd like, you may bring in some clothes for him as long as there's no strings on them. Since we already had his medical information on file from the ER, we were able to skip some of the intake procedures. We showed him where everything was, and then got him settled into his room for the night. This morning, we woke him so he could meet with myself and one of my colleagues, Dr. Loren. He didn't really give us much more to go on than he did last night. I think as he gets more comfortable he will open up a little more. All of this takes time." She paused. "Do you have any questions for me?"

Roger shook his head, allowing her to continue. "Right now, the plan is to get him feeling comfortable. If he isn't comfortable with being here, getting him to take anti-depressants and talking to us may be quite a struggle. We're going to do that by meeting with him and allowing him to say as much or as little as he wants. He needs to know that this is a safe environment. Once we get there, we'll meet with him on a regular basis and start him on some meds. It won't be an instant change, it usually takes 2-3 weeks for anti-depressants to kick in."

Roger nodded his head, taking all of the information in.

"If you're up to it, I'd like to try talking to him, with you there of course. Maybe we can start making some progress."

"Yeah, that's fine."

"Okay, follow me and I'll show you to his room. You can spend some time in with him before we have to do any talking."

They began walking down another hallway that had doors on both sides. The doors were a mahogany shade of brown and had small, rectangular vertical windows in them, about sixteen inches by five inches.

They stopped outside of room 418 and Dr. Cordero smiled at him. "Go ahead. Try to talk to him about normal things first, it will take the attention off of him and make him more comfortable. Even if he doesn't want to respond, just keep talking. I know he will be happy you're here, even if he doesn't show it."

Roger nodded and took a deep breath before gripping the door handle and gently turning it. He closed his eyes for a brief moment wondering what he was going to see and walked in.

* * *

AN: Wow, another chapter written. I can't believe it. I should take five hour train rides more often. Apparently, it's my best place to concentrate. I know you guys are probably pissed for how this one ends, but I couldn't keep going for the sake of keeping the chapter the same general length as the rest. Now that I've gotten such a good rhythm going, hopefully finishing these chapters won't be so difficult. If you don't mind and you have a minute, please leave a review. They are always such great inspiration. Thank you all so much for reading and for your amazing support!

~Elizabeth


	12. Move Forward

Title: Leaving the Past Behind

Summary: Mark has a dark past that Roger doesn't know about. When an event triggers the memories, he begins to have nightmares. They threaten to destroy him and Roger must help him through it. Mark depression story, but not slash. Post-RENT

Category: Angst & Hurt/Comfort

Rating: T for Adult themes, language

Disclaimer: I don't own RENT, God bless Jonathan Larson - Thank you for creating one of the most amazing pieces of art I have ever seen.

**

* * *

Chapter 12: Move Forward**

Mark was laying on his side. Roger walked in followed closely by Dr. Cordero.

"Mark, you have a visitor," she said brightly.

Mark didn't move from his position. Dr. Cordero nodded at Roger and then left. Roger went and pulled a chair up to the side of the bed so he could see Mark's face. There were dried tears on his cheeks and his eyes were bloodshot. Roger remembered what Dr. Cordero said and cleared his throat.

"Hey Mark." A few moments of silence went by before Roger decided what he would talk about. "You know the sun is out today and it's a little warmer than it's been lately." He awkwardly stopped and laughed to himself. The last thing Mark would want to hear about is the weather. "When you get better, we should go to the Life Café to celebrate. We'll tear the place up just like we used to. Remember that night after Maureen's protest? That was so great. We need to do that again."

Roger peered down at Mark and saw fresh tears glistening on his cheek. He took his hand and was surprised when he didn't flinch or jerk away. He slowly rubbed his thumb over the back of Mark's hand and sighed. "Oh, Mark. I don't know what to do to help you."

They sat in silence for a few seconds until Roger heard Mark's small, quiet voice. "I just like you being here."

Roger smiled brightly at him. "I'm glad you feel that way. I will make sure to spend as much time as humanly possible with you, well during visiting hours at least."

Mark's face fell when Roger mentioned visiting hours. Roger noticed and immediately regretted saying it.

"That's the best I can do for now."

The room was silent for a few long moments. Neither knew what to say. Then again, Mark really didn't _want_ to say anything.

"Did you hear that Maureen is planning a new protest?" He gave Mark a chance to respond, but continued once he was met with silence. "Apparently, they're cracking down on some more lofts. They're even thinking about tearing them down. Maureen has a few friends that live down there so she was thinking about doing a protest in the park or the empty lot again." Roger waited a few moments and then laughed to himself. "Then again, after what happened last time, maybe I should be deterring her from this. I don't think we need another situation like the last one."

The entire time Roger talked, Mark just fidgeted. He really didn't even know how to respond. Roger was talking about things that didn't apply to him anymore. What did it matter if Maureen was planning another protest? What would it matter in the end? As minute by minute passed and Roger continued to talk, Mark continued to get agitated.

When the door opened, Mark thought he was finally being saved from all of Roger's senseless babbling. Unfortunately, it was Dr. Cordero. That meant lots of tears and awkward silences, something he would take Roger's babbling over any day.

Dr. Cordero smiled widely and took a seat in the remaining empty chair. "Hey Mark. Do you mind if I talk to you for a little while this morning?"

Mark scoffed and quietly replied. "What like you're actually going to give me a choice or something?"

She stayed perfectly calm as if what he said wasn't meant to attack her. "Well, essentially, you do have a choice. You are in control of whether you talk to me, not anyone else. I would like nothing more than to talk everything out with you. I know that's not going to happen but you do need to know that you can't put it aside forever. At some point, we will need to discuss the stuff that makes you uncomfortable."

Roger remembered what Mimi had said to him that morning about his support making everything work. "You know I've always supported you, Mark, and I do now. I can sit right here and help you through everything."

Mark looked terrified, but swallowed hard and nodded his head.

"Okay Mark. Let's start simple. Tell me about your family – in general of course."

Mark took a deep breath and began to speak slowly and quietly. "Okay, well, my parents were both born and raised in Scarsdale. They married and had me first, and later had my sister, Cindy. My Mom was sweet and gentle. She loved to crochet and knit. She was always so happy."

Dr. Cordero cut in. "Was?"

Mark half nodded his head. "My parents kind of…changed….when I got older."

"When was this? How did they change?"

"When I was around twelve. I don't know. My father just kind of…..got…..I don't know."

Dr. Cordero could tell that Mark was getting uncomfortable on the subject of his father. "How did your mother change? How was she different?"

"She just wasn't happy like she used to be. She just kind of became this zombie. She wasn't the same."

The doctor nodded and made a few notes on the chart.

"And your sister, Cindy? What was your relationship like?"

Mark suddenly became more sure of himself than he had been in an entire week. "We were close. I loved her to death. I protected her."

"What were you protecting her from? Or who?"

Mark gulped air when the question was posed so obviously. Her words hung in the air for a few seconds before they were answered.

"My father."

"Why did you need to protect her from your father? How was he a threat?"

Mark began shaking his head. "No, no, no. I'm done. I don't want to do this anymore. Can we please stop?"

As much as Dr. Cordero wanted to relieve her angst-filled patient, she was looking for one bit of information from him. Roger squeezed his hand, letting him know it was okay.

"Just a minute longer. Come on, Mark. Why was your father a threat?"

Tears sprung from his eyes and Dr. Cordero thought that she had lost the battle until three little words were uttered.

"He beat me."

Roger hugged him tightly as he sobbed. Mimi was right. Mark's pain was becoming his pain. But they were brothers, blood relations aside. Now it was his turn to protect Mark. "It's okay, Mark. You're safe now. I promise. I will never ever let anyone hurt you like that again."

Though Mark hadn't stopped crying, Roger somehow knew that the words didn't fall on deaf ears. He felt Mark relax slightly in his arms, something that made him smile broadly. It was the first time progress had been made, and he couldn't have asked for anything more.

"You did great, Mark. I'm so glad that you were able to open up to us about that. I think if we can talk through it some more, we can get your life back on track. For now, just spend time with Roger and relax. If you want or need to talk to me, I'm right down the hall. If not, I'll meet with you again tomorrow morning."

"Thank you, Dr. Cordero, I appreciate it." Roger reached up to shake her hand.

"No problem. It was a group effort after all, right?" She turned to leave and shut the door part-way before heading to her office.

By this time, Mark's sobs had subsided and he had returned to his upright position. "Roger?"

"Yeah Mark?"

"I want to sleep, but I'm afraid the nightmares will come back. They always make me take these pills that make me fall asleep, but they just make everything more real. I don't like it."

"Maybe I can talk to Dr. Cordero about changing that. Can you fall asleep on your own? You need to sleep, you know."

Mark shook his head. "I don't know. I don't like going to sleep. I hate it. I don't like being here. When I'm alone in here at night, it makes everything worse."

"Dr. Cordero is here to help you though. If you can keep talking to her, I bet those nightmares will go away. I bet you won't even need pills to sleep."

Mark got quiet and uncomfortable again. "Why do I have to talk to her? I don't like that either. Roger, those memories, they were put away for a reason. Why can't I just put them away again?"

"You know why, Mark. Getting those feelings out in the open is going to make you feel so much better. You'll probably even feel better than you did before this whole thing started. And you're not doing it alone. I'll be here every step of the way, even if I can't always _be_ here. I promise. Just give it a try. Please? For me?"

Mark nodded his head. It was hard to say no to Roger because he knew everything he was saying was right. He just didn't want to face what stood between him and that new life that this 'talk therapy' was supposed to get him.

Mark was silent for a few moments as the gears turned in his head. "What if it doesn't work?"

"What do you mean?"

"What if I go through all that, pour my heart out, talk through all that…..stuff, just to feel more tormented than I do now?"

"Mark, these doctors know what they're doing. They wouldn't put you through all that unless they knew that it would help you and not hurt you. Sure, it's going to be difficult to talk about that stuff again, but I don't think there's any way you can get worse than you are now. All you can do is move forward."

Mark nodded and began thinking again. Roger imagined what questions he could be coming up with to try and talk his way out of the therapy, but what came next was a surprise he couldn't have anticipated.

"I'm sorry."

Roger was dumbfounded. It was the last thing he was ever expecting him to say. "For what?"

"For causing all of this trouble. For worrying you. For making you sit here with me."

"Those aren't things you need to apologize for. I do these things for you because I care about you and I don't like to see you hurt. This is what family does. They support each other when times are tough. Don't even think for a moment that you owe me an apology."

Roger hugged him tightly and didn't let go for a long moment. Mark felt better than he had since everything had started. He still wasn't sure that everything was going to work out, but he knew he could count on Roger to help him through it.

Roger spent a good part of the afternoon with Mark just talking about normal things. It was much more relaxed and really quite enjoyable, until the dreaded time came when Roger would have to leave. Mark had been nervously watching the clock for the last hour. He wasn't sure he could handle watching Roger leave. He didn't want him to. One of the 4 West nurses came to the door. Mark knew why she was there and suddenly put an iron grip on Roger's arm.

"Mr. Davis, I'm afraid visiting hours are ending. You'll need to say your goodbyes and head out." She always felt bad enforcing the visitor policy and today wasn't any different. Unfortunately, it was a job requirement and she had no choice.

Roger looked Mark in the eyes. "Remember Mark, I may not be here, but I will always be right here." Roger patted Mark on the chest where his heart was. Roger almost had to laugh at the absurdity of his words, well, not the words themselves, more the fact that it was Roger Davis saying them. He never thought he would ever be capable of uttering something that cheesy, but, nonetheless, if it was to help Mark, then he would do it.

Mark watched as Roger was lead back out to the waiting room. It was then that the countdown began before he would be able to see him again. Eighteen hours and counting. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

AN: Well, there you go. It's going to get a bit interesting after this one. The path to Mark's health can't be all rainbows and butterflies. Thank you to all of my reviewers! I apologize for not being able to reply to your reviews this time like I usually do, but please know they are appreciated all the same. Nothing makes me happier than hearing my phone go off and seeing a review from one of you guys. You rock! New readers and old readers alike: I hope you're enjoying the story and please continue to give me feedback. Constructive criticism is always welcome.

Phew! I need to cut this note before it gets much longer. I'm already working on the next chapter so hopefully I can stay on this regular updating schedule. Thanks again guys!

~Liz


	13. Can We Not Talk About That?

Title: Leaving the Past Behind

Summary: Mark has a dark past that Roger doesn't know about. When an event triggers the memories, he begins to have nightmares. They threaten to destroy him and Roger must help him through it. Mark depression story, but not slash. Post-RENT

Category: Angst & Hurt/Comfort

Rating: T for Adult themes, language

Disclaimer: I don't own RENT, God bless Jonathan Larson - Thank you for creating one of the most amazing pieces of art I have ever seen.

**

* * *

Chapter 13: Can We Not Talk About That?**

Without Roger, Mark felt small again. At dinner, he shuffled his feet to get his tray and then sat by himself to eat off of it the bits and pieces of food that he could stomach. Without Roger, Mark was scared. He didn't like feeling so alone. The worst part was, it was only his first full day there. He had no idea how he would survive much longer.

He stood up to dispose of his tray and was met with disapproving looks from the nurses.

"Mark, you're going to need to eat more than that. You need to get your strength back."

Mark stood, staring, unable to answer her. He felt incapable of forming words.

She slowly approached him, aware of his condition, and led him back to the table.

"Here, honey, just take a few bites, it will make you feel better."

Mark's stomach gurgled in response, rudely awakening his gag reflex. He jumped up and ran to the bathroom as quick as possible to expel the miniscule contents of his stomach.

The same nurse followed him and rubbed his back while his stomach wretched, but somehow he just felt worse. The awful taste brought tears to his eyes as he grabbed a handful of paper towels from the dispenser next to the sink to clean his face off. He couldn't explain his sudden aversion to food. It started with him just not feeling like eating, but now he was absolutely repulsed by the idea of it.

After the situation at dinner, the nurse allowed Mark to leave for group activities, but assured him that she would make a note for his physician and psychiatrist. Fan-freakin-tastic. If there was one thing he thought was the most deleterious part of his treatment, it was the group activity time. They wanted people to feel better about themselves and not want to kill themselves. Throwing them in a room with strangers who have the same desires just doesn't work.

Somehow Mark made it through and could finally make his way back to his room – one of the only highlights of his current residence. It was a room he had all to himself. There wasn't anyone to bother him, or make him upset, or make him angry, or examine his every move. Just him inside his small, quiet room. But again, that was the downfall. No Roger.

Mark sat on the bed and went over the events of the past two days in his head. He couldn't take much more. It was only about thirty minutes before they would require all the patients to turn off their lights and go to bed. Mark was terrified. He was given his sleeping pill before being sent to his room and the idea of being lost in the dark of his room was a scary thought. The first night, he barely noticed– he was nearly unconscious anyway, but now that he was aware of his situation, he had no interest in turning the lights off or sleeping.

Despite his fears, the lights were turned off and he was lying down in his bed. His mind took advantage of the situation and used the shadows in his surroundings to create horrible images on the walls and ceiling. Mark began to sweat and quickly threw the blanket off the bed, leaving only the sheet, in an attempt to cool down. He didn't like the feelings he was having. He wished more than anything that Roger was there. He felt horrible for how he had treated him back at the loft. Roger was helping him, not hurting him. He missed the safety he felt after nightmares when Roger would take care of him. In the psych ward, there wasn't anyone to give you that kind of care.

He soon became hyper-aware of everything going on around him. The scratchy sheets rubbed against his legs like nails on a chalkboard. The bed was too small and the pajamas too big. Everything was wrong about the situation he was in. Every single noise, no matter how big or small, made Mark jump out of his skin. He fought the tears rising to his eyes. He was sick of crying! He had been crying his whole life. When would it finally stop?

Mark became more agitated as his thoughts pounded through his head. He gripped the thin, white sheet and pulled it over his head hoping that it would somehow muffle the cries escaping from his mouth. When he did, his feet were suddenly uncovered. That was the last straw.

Mark stood up quickly, threw the sheet to the floor, and did the only thing he knew how. He collapsed on the bed and screamed as loud as he could into the scratchy, thin, pillow. It was getting harder and harder to breathe as his sobs kept him from catching his breath.

Despite his best efforts, the commotion was heard in the hall by the charge nurse. She rushed in with two orderlies on her heels and walked in to find the man curled into a small ball sobbing and punching the mattress. Her heart ached for him, though it was nothing new. The first few nights were always the worst. She approached the bedside and attempted to get his attention.

"Mark, Mark, can you hear me?"

His wracking cries continued through her words. She softly placed her hand on his shoulder and tried getting his attention again. Mark screamed in response with a resounding 'no'.

"Come on Mark, I know you can hear me. I need you to relax, take deep breaths."

Her words fell upon deaf ears. She looked up to the orderlies and slightly nodded her head. He left the room and returned seconds later with a sedative. A quick poke in the hip and a few seconds later, Mark was quiet.

The nurse turned him over and gently covered him again with the sheet and blanket to make him as comfortable as possible. Things could only go up from here.

The next morning came too quickly. There was a knock and soon Dr. Cordero came in.

"Mark? Are you awake?"

He slowly opened his eyes, but quickly closed them, fighting against the rays coming through his window. He rubbed his eyes trying to wake up.

"Hey, Mark. I hear you had a rough night." Her voice was so gentle, it made it hard for him to hate her. It was easy to be distracted by her bedside manner.

He only looked at her in reply.

"Well hopefully we can get you sleeping better real soon. I've got you set up for an appointment with your physician, Dr. Barton. Once he clears you, we can try a medication adjustment since the Trazadone doesn't seem to be working too well.

He finally seemed to find his voice. "I…I don't want to sleep."

Dr. Cordero's expression changed to one of concern. "Why not?"

He took a deep breath and gathered his thoughts before speaking. "Because when I sleep…that's when everything becomes real."

"Like what?"

This was always the part he wanted to skip over. The details were the things he wanted more than anything to forget. If he could just forget the details, what would be left to further destroy his life?

"Can we not talk about that just yet?"

"Well, Mark, I want you to get out of here just as much as you do but until we start making progress, that won't happen. You were doing really well yesterday. Remember, you're stronger than it and you have lots of people who care about you."

"I know, but it's hard to talk about it without Roger here."

"Well, unfortunately, Roger isn't always going to be there when you get upset. You're going to need to learn how to pull yourself through these issues. And I hope that in a few weeks, we can start moving towards that."

"Okay, but can we not do this _now_? I mean, can I at least have a few hours?"

She smiled and nodded. "Of course. After you meet with Dr. Barton, you'll have some downtime. We can talk about it when you come see me for your medication adjustment. Does that sound okay?"

He nodded and took a deep breath. It was going to be a long few weeks.

* * *

AN: Wow, can you believe it? I actually posted another chapter. Let me apologize again for the wait. Lately when I try to write, it feels like trying to squeeze orange juice out of an already smashed orange. I'm not giving up on this story because it has a place to go and I can't leave Mark hanging. It's late, so if there are mistakes, I apologize, but I couldn't let one more day go by without updating.

As always, thank you SO much to everyone that has added me and/or the story to your favorite/alert lists and reviewed. You are amazing. As always, please R&R, and constructive criticism is always welcome.

~Liz


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